Tis to create, and in creating live         A being more intense, that we endow         With form our fancy, gaining as we give         The life we image, even as I do now.         What am I? Nothing: but not so art thou,         Soul of my thought! with whom I traverse earth,         Invisible but gazing, as I glow         Mix'd with thy spirit, blended with thy birth, And feeling still with thee in my crush'd feelings' dearth.